Beyond the Sneer
by rushedrambler
Summary: Harry and Draco head back to Hogwarts for their Eigth Year. I'm not very good at summaries, so I shan't ruin your impressions here. Reviews/Constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated, but please be nice. This is my first fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

Tears dripped down the end of his aristocratically pointed nose. He could taste the wet saltiness as the tracks ran over his lips. The room grew steadily darker as nightfall crept upon the Manor , slowly bathing the imposing structure in inky blackness.

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><p>Draco decided that he must have, somehow, cried himself to sleep. The room was pitch-dark and one of the house-elves had covered him with a blanket. Reaching a thin arm out, he fumbled about blindly before snatching up his wand.<p>

"Lumos." Draco blinked. He didn't sound anything like himself. His voice was hoarse, almost nasal, and sounded weak, absolutely unbefitting of any member of the Malfoy family. The thought of 'family' held the threat of tears again, tears that he brushed away angrily with the back of his crumpled sleeve.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been brutally murdered by death-eaters just over a week ago. They, apparently, blamed the Malfoys' betrayal during The Final Battle for the Dark Lord's downfall and had not shown an ounce of mercy towards their former allies. Draco had been on holiday in France then, and the shocking piece of news had left him grief-stricken and falling rapidly into the depths of depression.

He knew he had to pick himself up, though. His parents wouldn't have wanted him to pine away for the rest of his life. He was handsome. He was wealthy beyond belief. He was Draco Malfoy, for heaven's sakes! He had a future ahead of him. A future, that he owed himself and his parents, to ensure was bright as could be.

Draco stood up suddenly, almost knocking the heavy wooden chair back in his determination, and took long strides across the carpet, out the door, up the stairs and into his bedroom. His trunk was already packed and stood solidly at the foot of his bed. He jutted his pointed chin out and stared defiantly through the open window at the crescent moon which hung in the night sky, amongst all the merrily twinkling stars.

His mind was made up. Welcome or not, he was going back to Hogwarts to complete his magical education and figure out what he wanted to do when he finally graduated. This year would be his, no matter what. He would not have friends, but he would at least have lackeys and accomplices. He was going to study harder than he ever had before and beat that bloody bookworm Granger at her own game. Potter wouldn't find himself king of the Quidditch pitch so easily any longer either. Draco had made sure to acquire the newest, and fastest, broom on the market when he had gone down to Diagon Alley to purchase the books and supplies he would need for school. And that red-headed idiot... Draco didn't bother to suppress a snort. The Weasel wasn't worth mentioning. He was just plain mediocre.

His lips curled into an all-too-familiar smirk as he threw himself onto the duvet. Sleep came quickly for the first time in days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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><p>Draco apparated onto the crowded platform without so much as a sound. He smirked as he surveyed the packed surroundings with as much superiority as he could muster and glared at a few Gryffindor second-years as they scurried past like frightened mice. Turning away abruptly from the scene of a little girl with auburn pigtails being hugged and kissed by her doting parents, lest the tears fall again, he swaggered onto the train and started looking for an empty compartment.<p>

He found one at the end and snapped his fingers. Two Malfoy house-elves appeared, hefting his trunk between them, while looking up at him with large, teary, concerned eyes.

"What?" Draco barked impatiently, irritated by their expressions. He did not need pity from lowly creatures such as house-elves.

The taller one answered, ears flopping about its wizened face as it did so. "We is sorry, Sir! We is just worried about you! Young Master did not eat breakfast this morning, or dinner last night! Master needs to eat! Else where is Master getting his strength from? Mistress Malfoy be telling Knobby to look after Young Master before the bad men killed her! Mistress will be so angry with Knobby if Master Draco be falling ill! Master Draco cannot continue like this! It is for his own good!" The elf's imploring tone touched Draco's heart momentarily, before he blanked all emotions from his mind.

"I will do as I see fit," he stated coldly, drawing himself up to his full height. "Return to the Manor and come to me if I ever call you to Hogwarts," he dismissed them in a bored drawl and an imperious wave of his hand. The elves squeaked and vanished with a resounding crack.

The minute they were gone, Draco cast several powerful locking charms on the door, before sinking wearily down into a seat. Elbows resting on his knees, he held his head in his hands and groaned. The elves' high-pitched keening hadn't done anything for his headache, and loathe as he was to admit it, Knobby had a point. He was going to make himself ill if he kept this up. Draco couldn't find it in himself to care, though. Nothing could make him more miserable than he already was, and besides, with all the work he was going to be doing, he would not have the luxury of time to waste on 'looking after himself' anyway.

He glanced out the open window and noticed the green fields rolling slowly past. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn't even realised that the train had pulled out of the station.

Draco picked at a loose thread on his shirt and decided to change so he wouldn't have to rush later. He closed the window and pulled the blinds shut, then did the same for the glass panel set in the door. He stripped and got dressed again quickly, using a spell to fold his discarded clothes while fishing in his bag for something.

His hand closed around the small, metallic object. As he pinned the badge to the front of his robes, he wondered why on Earth he had been allowed to keep his former position as a Slytherin Prefect. He suspected it was mostly because Dumbledore felt sorry for him. His eyes flashed dangerously. How dare that meddlesome old fool treat him like charity! He was tempted to turn the badge in but decided against it. Being a Prefect did have its perks, after all.

Draco was jerked rudely from his thoughts by an incessant tapping which seemed to be coming from the window. He snarled and yanked the blinds up. A snowy white owl was flying alongside the train and pecking away at the glass.

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion. Few people owned such a rare breed. The only person he knew who had an owl like this one was none other than Harry Potter, and there was no reason for the Saviour of the Wizarding World to be sending a letter to him at all.

The minute he slid the window open, the owl glided in and hopped about on the table. Draco extended a hand and detached the folded-up note from the bird's outstretched leg.

He stared, perplexed, at the messy letters which spelled his first name out in emerald ink. It was, no doubt, Potter's handwriting. Biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, he straightened it out and read:

Hello Draco,

Look, I know we haven't exactly been getting along very well but I don't want to keep fighting with you either. The War's finally over for good, and I don't want to spend my last year in Hogwarts arguing with you. So... what about a kind of truce? We don't have to be friends, we just have to be civil to each other. I won't mind trying to be friends though. I still owe your mother for saving my life in the Forest after all, and actually, you aren't half bad yourself, when you're not being a stuck-up prick. But you'll have to stop calling Hermione, and any other Muggle-born witch or wizard, a Mudblood, of course. And Ron and I don't like being called Weasel or Scarhead either.

Just think about it. And I'm sorry about your parents. So, if you need to talk to someone, you can always come to me, I guess. Or maybe Professor Dumbledore. He'd definitely be willing to listen.

Sincerely, Harry

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. Potter sounded sincere enough. But on the other hand, Draco hated people patronising him, although he did it often enough to others. "Bloody Potter!" he swore, "What's he playing at?" He continued muttering mutinously under his breath, "What makes him think I would want to be his stupid sidekick, like that pathetic Weasley!"

The owl hooted from its place beside Draco. He glared furiously at it and swatted it towards the still-open window. "Get out!" he snapped. It ruffled its feathers indignantly and gave him a baleful look with its beady eyes. "Out!" hissed Draco, pushing the owl out of the window and slamming it shut, before vehemently pulling down the blinds and stomping back to his seat, sitting down harder than was necessary.

"Bloody stubborn bird just like it's bloody stubborn owner!" he groused to the empty carriage.

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><p>The train ground to a juddering halt. Draco's fingers roamed through his hair, struggling to make it more presentable than it already was. He took a moment to compose himself before wrenching the door open and stalking down the narrow aisle.<p>

Thunder rumbled across the dark sky. The silhouette of the giant gamekeeper was outlined clearly as lightning flashed. Draco shivered as he walked past Hagrid, head down against the few drops of rain that foreshadowed a heavy downpour. It was cold for the beginning of autumn.

"Mate!" A gravelly, husky sort of voice strained above the carefree chatter and squelching, scuffling sounds synonymous with a large group of students dragging their feet on the wet ground. Draco spun around, scanning the crowd for its source. While a part of him rejoiced at the sight of an old friend (which instilled a sense of normalcy at the very least), he was still very much a 'private' person, and the thought of company at the moment (no matter how caring or friendly) made him cringe.

An arm was slung casually around his shoulders as Blaise Zabini started waffling on about the weather in Italy and how good it was to see Draco again. This was followed by a comment on how much he resembled a vampire and some more waffling about sunny beaches and girls in skimpy bikinis. Draco trudged on and hoped Blaise would get the message that what he desired was a little peace and quiet when he shrugged the arm off roughly.

Thankfully, Blaise noticed his friend's undisguised lack of interest in his animated monologue and wrapped up with an offer of his condolences to Draco as they climbed into a carriage. The blonde stared down at his shoes for the better part of the journey, eager to avoid catching a glimpse of the winged beasts which dragged the vehicle along. The War had been especially hard on him and the last thing he wanted was a recollection of his terrifying past under the Dark Lord's manipulation and occasional torture.

He was actually faintly surprised that Blaise had decided to return as well, but was too tired to enquire further at this point. His mind drifted to the only other person who had stuck by him through thick and thin. To his knowledge thus far, Pansy was residing in France and had not made any plans to return to England. He felt a pang of guilt as he realised that he had forgotten to reply to her last letter and resolved to write back before the week was up.

The remainder of the bumpy ride passed in pleasant, companionable silence. Hogwarts loomed overhead, majestic as always. Draco stepped down from the carriage, nervously fingering the collar of his robes while skilfully manoeuvring around puddles of rainwater. The castle seemed to gaze down at him in compassion, and complete understanding of his plight. It radiated a nurturing, protective aura as it stood dependably upon its foundations. If it had arms, Draco was sure that they'd be wide open, welcoming the lost, lonely and outcast into its warm embrace; and he had no doubt that he would have rushed, sobbing, into them.

Somehow, he knew returning would become one of his wisest choices in life.

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><p><em>Firstly, thanks to those who reviewed. :) It was really encouraging. <em>

_And secondly, this is going to be kind of AU, because Dumbledore, Snape and Dobby will still be alive. _

_Read and Review! And I LIKE constructive criticism, so that will be really appreciated. :) _

_Oh, and by the way, I'll try to update once a week if my busy schedule permits. :D _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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><p>"Harry! Ron! Stop slouching! You've got to be better role models for the younger years!" Hermione scolded, shaking her head in exasperation. Harry deftly ignored her, craning his neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of shining, platinum blonde hair. His posture looked more than uncomfortable; his head straining to be free of his neck while his shoulders slumped slightly forwards.<p>

Ron chortled, straightening his hat before it drooped down in front of his eyes again. "Come off it, Hermione! We're war heroes! I'm pretty sure we don't have to put on a front in public. We can just be ourselves!"

The bushy-haired girl's mouth pulled downwards into a frown. "Yes, Ronald. However, we should also constantly seek to better ourselves, especially now that we have a whole lot of young, impressionable children looking up to us." She gave him a meaningful look. "We can't have the future generations of Wizarding England admiring a trio of lazy, sloppy so-called saviours, can we?"

Ron's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish's. Hermione grinned like a vicious predator which had just caught its prey and seized the opportunity to plough on.

"I was actually thinking about using this new-found fame to increase awareness of house-elf rights!" She waved a hand about airily in her excitement, eyes shining. "It won't cost a thing, and Ron, just imagine! More house-elves will be liberated and properly paid for their services! Perhaps we could even set up a school for them! They could get an education and more job prospects! Oh, the possibilities are endless, Ron! Maybe, a hundred years into the future, some very talented elves could get a place to study magic in Hogwarts as well! And to think something so mind-blowing would be the result of the work of a few students who once resided in the Gryffindor Tower!"

Ron rolled his eyes and hoped that he had callings in life which were in no way associated with building schools for house-elves. Luck seemed to be on his side this once, at the very least, as Hermione had not started on an angry, passionate tirade on the unfair, barbaric treatment of the majority of house-elves across the globe. Ron took a minute to congratulate himself on his good fortune.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione's head snapped around as she noticed that the lack of her bespectacled friend's participation in the conversation was due to his absence.

"Dunno," Ron grunted, "he was here just a minute ago." Thankful for his considerable height, he scoured the hordes for a mop of messy black hair. He spotted it fighting its way through the doors leading to The Great Hall. "He's ahead of us," he told Hermione. "I don't know why he's in such a rush though, it's not as if the food's already there." He licked his lips in unconcealed anticipation.

Hermione scowled darkly. "Is food all you ever think of!" She looked a little put-out as she tried, unsuccessfully, to storm past him amidst the thronging crowd of hungry students.

Ron smiled sheepishly. "Well, if it makes a difference, I think of you more than I think of food."

"And is that charming line supposed to put you back in my good graces?" There was no denying, though, the blush which crept to her cheeks, nor the fact that she was resisting the overwhelming urge to smile.

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><p>Harry plonked himself down on the old wooden bench and let his gaze wander about the massive room, drinking the familiar, comforting sights and sounds in greedily. He had missed the place.<p>

Feeling as though he was being watched, Harry turned, and found himself staring right into the silvery grey eyes of a certain fair-haired Slytherin boy. He tried to smile, but Malfoy looked down so quickly he couldn't possibly have seen Harry's pitiful attempt.

He was sitting rod-stiff straight, lips pursed, and was sneering down his bony nose at the empty table before him. Harry noticed Blaise Zabini taking the spot next to Malfoy, no, _Draco_, and clapping him good-naturedly on the back.

"Harry! Why didn't you wait for us?" Hermione's frizzy brown curls flew out behind her as she clambered clumsily onto the bench on Harry's left. Ron planted himself next to her and gave Harry a questioning look as well. A questioning look which started to morph itself into a teasing grin. Harry felt a sense of dread bubbling somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

"Were you impatient to see a special someone?" Ron tried to produce a leer, but the overall effect was somewhat ruined by the slight degree of laughter he hadn't quite managed to keep out of his tone. Harry turned as red as a tomato and hid his face in his hands; Ron had spoken loudly enough for the whole of Gryffindor to hear, not to mention a few stray, giggling Hufflepuffs.

The freckled boy had a manic gleam in his eyes and Harry assumed that this was his punishment for not sharing his chocolate frogs with his best friend over the summer. "Who's the lucky boy then, Harry my friend?" his booming voice reverberated through the air and an unnatural silence permeated the hall almost immediately. Everyone (bar the Slytherins) unconsciously leaned forwards in their seats, eager to find out who their Saviour had taken a fancy to.

Harry let out a sound not unlike one a severely wounded animal in pain might make. He had come out to Ginny right after the Final Battle had been over, when she had tried to kiss him. She had actually taken the news surprisingly well and had even made him promise to remain friends. A month later, he had outed himself to Hermione, Neville, Luna and the rest of the Weasleys.  
>All had pledged their support and proclaimed that it didn't matter a bit who he loved. Harry had been so touched that he had sobbed for hours on end with his head in Mrs Weasley's lap. A public announcement about his homosexuality had been made a week later, and for weeks on end, Harry got more than the usual gawking-at on the streets. He was sure that the Hogwarts population did not need a reminder of the fact that he was gay, and he was certain that he definitely did not need a 'partner' at this point. The last thing he wanted was to be pelted with love letters during breakfast and to resume his role of being the subject of never-ending gossip in the corridors.<p>

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><p>Draco zoned out the minute the Sorting Hat began to sing. He had far more important matters to concentrate on. Inwardly, he found himself thanking all the gods who had deemed it worthwhile to lessen his suffering. Out of his two best friends, one was seated right next to him and the other was, to his knowledge, safe. On his other side, Theodore Nott served as a barrier separating him from Crabbe and Goyle. It wasn't their fault for being so thick, but he just didn't have the patience to deal with two gormless idiots (who probably still sided with Voldemort) at the moment. He was grateful for their presence, in any case. He counted himself lucky not to have been the only Slytherin boy to return.<p>

Indeed, having one of his best friends, not to mention another relatively close friend, by his side was more than he could have hoped for. And to look on the bright side, which he seldom did, Crabbe and Goyle weren't entirely bad either; they made rather useful lackeys (albeit ones who couldn't be trusted a hundred percent).

Yes, Draco decided, he really ought to be more thankful. Shivering, he tried to picture having only Mulciber, Avery and Rosier as companions. Another wave of gratitude washed over him as he remembered that they had chosen to sit for their NEWTS at Durmstrang instead, and would, most likely, never meet with him again.

A high-pitched giggle which grated on his nerves delivered him to the present. Draco groaned and busied himself with alternating between examining his perfactly manicured nails to studying the dark grain of the wood. Both were far more attractive options than looking up at the pathetic face of a simpering Astoria Greengrass, who was flirting with the top of his head from across the table. He could almost feel her gaze boring through his skull and was getting more and more annoyed by the minute. Smiling grimly, he interlocked his long pianist's fingers and tucked them under his chin, making a mental note to tell Daphne to pass the message on to her sister that he was, quite simply, not interested.

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><p>A hush fell across the hall. The Sorting was over. Draco barely registered the headmaster's words when the eccentric old man rose to his feet to deliver the customary speech before the feast started. It was a little longer than usual this year, Draco thought idly as the purple-robed man stroked his long, white beard and twinkled kindly down at the mass of students. He dwelled lightly on what he had caught of the Professor's rambling on about how certain activities would be introduced in order to encourage house unity and foster better relations between muggleborns and purebloods.<p>

Draco snorted in derision. Gryffindors were far too naive and idealistic for their own good. Despite considering muggleborns to be equal to himself at this stage, after learning how deranged the Dark lord actually was, he knew that many other purebloods didn't, and would never do so even if their lives depended upon it. And on the other end of the spectrum, he would also be hard pressed to find a muggleborn willing to extend a true hand of friendship to a pureblood who was formerly on the Dark side.

'Hey! Draco!" A hand waved vigorously in front of his face.

"What. Do. You. Want." Draco growled out through clenched teeth. He was tired of being pulled abruptly from his muddled thoughts all the time. Blaise looked slightly taken aback and retracted his hand quickly; Draco had adopted a facial expression reminiscent of a rabid, flesh-eating animal who had been deprived of food for far too long.

Theo shifted his gaze from the middle of the table, where he had been eyeing a platter of roast chicken, to Draco's scowling face. "We merely thought you'd be interested in having a bite to eat before bed, " he stated matter-of-factly.

Flushing a dull red, Draco helped himself to a tiny portion of food and started pushing it around on his plate. The delicious aromas wafting through the hall were enticing, but he had neither the energy, nor mood, to chew. A quick glance in the direction of the Gryffindor table , which he happened to be facing, brought to his attention that Potter was, once again, staring at him over his shoulder. He averted his gaze swiftly and resumed mutilating the limp vegetables which lay forlornly in the cold gravy.

For a brief moment, Draco was reminded of himself. His eyes clouded over for a few seconds as he pictured himself drowning in quicksand. The congealing gravy spurred the imagery on and Draco could have sworn that he saw his face etched on the surface of a single withered leaf.

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><p>The benches were being scraped back. The resulting noise jolted him back into reality as he flicked stray strands of hair out of his eyes with an irritated huff. This was getting more and more ridiculous. He, Draco Malfoy, could not possibly be compared to a bunch of shrivelled leaves.<p>

Aggravation, targeted mainly at himself, roared through his veins like a raging river. Ignoring his friends' cries for him to slow down and wait for them, he sprinted out of the hall, rudely elbowing others out of the way as he ran, for once not caring a bit about comporting himself with the Malfoy dignity. As he progressed further and further from the light and warmth spilling from the hall, every step leading him closer to the Slytherin Dungeons, a sinking sensation at the bottom of his heart told him that he was becoming more and more like the vegetables he had left to drown on his plate.

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><p><em>I hope it's all right. :) Please review. They motivate me. By the way, I probably won't be updating until 18 August because of term tests. :(<em>


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

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><p>"Bugger! He's run off again!" Blaise tried not to yell in his steadily increasing frustration. Draco was being an uncooperative prat. He wished Pansy were here to drill just a tiny bit of sense into his unbearably thick, stubborn skull.<p>

"Great. Just great. Where d'you think he's scarpered off to?" he directed at Theo, a little more harshly than he had intended to.

The sandy-haired boy raised an eyebrow and gave a lazy roll of his watery blue eyes. "Well, Blaise, most people like to have an early night before their first day of classes. He's probably in his room by now."

Blaise blushed. It did seem to be a rather obvious answer. Draco was someone who valued his sleep when he actually allotted himself time to have it, and really, where else could he have run to at half past nine in the night?

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><p>Harry, for one, was glad that the feast was finally over. He stumbled over the hem of his over-long robes as he stood, righting himself by catching hold of the edge of the table. He was sick and tired of everyone discussing prospective dates for him while he tried to hide his flaming cheeks behind several large napkins.<p>

As his fellow Gryffindor eighth-year males hooted with laughter and exchanged lewd glances, Harry couldn't help but wonder if their pumpkin juice had been spiked. After all, the only plausible explanation for their current behaviour pointed towards the consumption of a ridiculously large amount of alcohol, but he supposed that being sadistic in nature was pretty much possible as well.

"So! Harry!" Seamus called, "Why don't you invite your man to our dorm tonight? You could do with getting laid! It'd lighten you up a bit!"

"Didn't know you were so eager to see me naked," Harry retorted, "Something you'd like to tell us?" His friends, sadly, seemed to possess neither a sense of shame nor one of propriety.

"Doubt so!" Neville chuckled good-naturedly, "And no worries, Harry! We'll be perfectly happy to help you close the curtains and cast silencing charms if you forget."

"Yeah, mate! We'll understand if you're so caught up in the moment that you forget the rest of us need to sleep and get through the night without suffering trauma." The red-head's contribution did not help Harry's mood.

"Dunno about that," Dean butted in cheerfully. "He's the Boy-Who-Lived, reckon we could make a fortune selling the footage."

A strangled, choking noise was emitted from said boy. After a series of indignant, incoherent splutterings, Hermione took pity on him and saved him from further embarrassment by giving the others a vicious lecture on how sexual harrassment was a crime worthy of a stint in Azkaban.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady by the time Hermione was done . Clambering into the cozy common room, Harry vowed never to bring any future boyfriends within a hundred feet of his dormitory. He didn't know what wizards had in place of online pornography, but decided that he would rather not star in whatever they had himself.

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><p>BAM! BAM! BAM!<p>

"Draco! Open up! Now!"

"Damn it, Draco! I'm serious! You'd better unlock the door now!"

"I know you're in there! You can't hide forever, you know! You'll have to face us during breakfast tomorrow anyhow!"

"Open. The. Bloody. Door. NOW! YOU FUCKING FERRET!"

If Blaise's hair were longer and less tightly curled, it'd have been sticking up at the ends from the sheer exertion. Theodore eyed him from the corner, where he was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest. He secretly thought that it was all rather amusing; Blaise pounding his fists on the door while Draco probably entrenched himself in the sheets.

He stood up and brushed his trousers off. The private rooms in the Slytherin Dungeons were nice, but proved to be a bit of a hindrance when one had moody, unpredictable friends who were prone to throwing temper tantrums.

"Draco? This is Theo. If you don't let us in, I'll go to Snape and personally ensure that he comes down to sort this out instead."

"You wouldn't!" came a cry from within the room, followed by a muffled thump. Theo snickered. Draco must have fallen out of bed.

"Oh, wouldn't I? He'd be the best person for you to talk to, Draco. He is your godfather, after all."

Theo crossed his arms and tapped his foot, smirking. "You have a minute to consider your options," he deadpanned in a scarily accurate impression of Snape.

The door was flung open with so much force that it bounced off the wall and shut again with a sharp, resounding click.

Blaise was staring at Theo in pure admiration. "Teach me!" he mouthed at the blue-eyed boy as he turned the knob and stepped cautiously over the threshhold. He got a smug look in return.

In the dim light, they could barely make out Draco's shivering frame as he curled into a ball on his bed.

"Erm, Draco?" Blaise asked tentatively, advancing slowly. His blonde friend was rather irascible, and he had no desire of being on the receiving end of a hex. Draco knew some seriously evil spells.

"What do you want?" It took an extremely long and close friendship to detect the slight quaver in his voice.

Theo shrugged and threw himself down on the bed. "What do you think? An explanation would do! You've been acting like a bloody girl at her time of month! It's only been a few hours and I can't stand you already!"

Blaise winced and edged away. Whatever the right thing to say was, this certainly wasn't it. He watched Draco stiffen and braced himself for the inevitable explosion.

Draco was beyond furious. Theo's remark played right on his already frayed nerves. It struck him how close Theo had been to the truth and he regarded his friend's words as a hit below the belt, although something at the back of his mind kept telling him it was unintentional.

The pale boy jumped to his feet and rounded on Theo, eyes flashing dangerously, expression livid. "Shut up!" he screeched, in an unnaturally high-pitched tone. "Why don't you get out, then? Get out! Get out! Get out!"

Theo backpedalled away from him as quickly as he could, disappearing over the opposite edge with a small, uncharacteristic yelp. Draco proceeded to flop heavily onto the duvet, sobbing uncontrollably. Blaise chanced it and stepped hesitantly over, seating himself next to Draco gingerly and patting him awkwardly on the back. Upon seeing this rather inspirational display of courage, Theo untangled his limbs and crept round the bed to do the same on Draco's other side.

"Is there anything you want to tell us?" Blaise asked, mimicking the tone a doting mother might use to soothe a particularly fussy infant. Not too far from the truth then, he thought to himself.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Draco! You know you can trust us!"

"I just miss my parents! There! I've said something. Now, will you leave me alone?"

"No. You're keeping something from us."

"Go away and use what's left of your limited intelligence to bother someone else."

"Draco, being a git isn't going to help matters."

"Well, I might not need to be one if you didn't insist on pestering me constantly."

Sighing, Blaise turned to Theo. the sandy-haired boy looked down at his friend, whose face was buried in a pillow, and furrowed his brow.

"Fine, Draco. But we're not letting you off the hook that easily-"

"You lying, cheating bastard, Theo! You said you wouldn't tell Snape a thing if I opened the door! Which I did!"

"Who said anything about Snape?" Theo picked himself off the bed. "I'm writing to Pansy first thing in the morning. She'll know how to deal with you while you're being an insufferable arsehole."

"No! You can't... She'll..." Draco did a rather impressive imitation of a goldfish, turning to Blaise with wide, horrified eyes.

"Erm, it's for your own good Draco, she might actually be able to get you to spill..." Blaise muttered guiltily before joining Theo at the door. "Goodnight!" The two boys scuttled out so fast you'd have thought they'd seen the Bloody Baron.

Draco grabbed a pillow and hurled it at the wall in his rage. Then another and another. Soon, the carpet was strewn with the fluffy, white objects. In the near-darkness, they looked like lost, lonely clouds floating aimlessly in the night sky.

He collapsed back onto the sheets, lacking even the energy to get one of the pillows back. How dare they pry into his affairs! Something seemed to be gnawing away at his heart, filling the void with lonely emptiness.

And speaking of love...

Draco shuddered. Blaise had been right. He had been, no still was, hiding something. Something big. Something that would need to be kept hidden away forever. He could only imagine the jeers and humiliation if anyone were to find out that the Slytherin Ice Prince was gay.

Wrapping the blankets closer around himself, he drifted off to the land of nod.

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><p><em>I decided to do a quick, short update since I had some free time. :D So please leave me a review! I'm desperate! :'(<em>

_And the next chapter will be a lot more cheery. Draco'll still be kinda half-depressed but he'll have to put on a snarky front. :) So ... yeah. :)_

_PLEASE REVIEW! AND THANKS TO ALL THOSE WHO HAVE REVIEWED or FAVOURITED. :D It means a lot. :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

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><p>Spindly fingers adjusted the green and silver striped tie and straightened the collar. A thin, pale neck rose from the confines of the neatly pressed shirt, joining it to a pointed chin and a familiar smirk.<p>

Draco's silvery grey eyes took on their old, conceited gleam as he studied his reflection. Arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow and drumming his fingers on the dresser impatiently, he gave the ancient family heirloom a quizzical look.

"Hmm... You look very... presentable, boy. A Malfoy should always dress in a manner befitting his status..." The mirror wheezed out, creaking a little as it did so. "Yes... Yes... You would definitely turn out to be quite the heartbreaker... A beautiful specimen indeed... But I take it that the hearts of the same gender are less easy to toy with, are they not, dear boy?"

Draco ceased his preening and stared, shocked, at the mirror. "What in blazes are you on about, you old crackpot!" he hissed in annoyance. Unexplainable anger crackled through him and he was tempted to hurl something at the mirror and watch it shatter into a million, tiny, fragmented little pieces which the house-elves would sweep up and dispose of. Sighing, he restrained himself, reminded of the fact that Lucius Malfoy would not have been pleased to see one of the only Malfoy heirlooms yet untouched by dark magic reduced to mere shards.

The mirror was unperturbed. "Child," it began in an aggravatingly patronising tone, "I have lived through many centuries and seen many things... Surely, you do not think yourself to be the only Malfoy to be plagued with this little... ahh... problem?"

Draco's temper flared. "What problem are you banging on about! Are you insinuating that there is something wrong with me? Me, Dra-"

"Pardon me, boy, my choice of words was indeed a little insensitive. I do apologise. But yes, dear child, this has occurred before... I must admit, never to the heir, but most certainly to others bearing the prestigious name of Malfoy... There now, it is nothing to be ashamed of... These are, after all, modern times... You will see-"

"You're lying!"Draco was trembling with rage and panic. So much for a good start to the first day of classes.

"Pray tell me, child, why I would relay such an untruth, if that were what it really is?"

"Every Malfoy has married other purebloods of the opposite sex! The evidence is documented in several books!"

"Ahh... But, child... Do you not remember what becomes of those who, in the past, sullied the Malfoy name? Do you not recall the burnt out holes in the family tree? Did you not wonder why they were not allowed to remain on the tapestry?"

"Because they married Mud- muggles or muggleborns! Surely, you know that!" Draco found that he was incapable of uttering that ... word any longer. Hearing it being spat viciously by his deranged Aunt Bellatrix before witnessing her carving it into Granger's flesh, while she writhed in agony from the simultaneously cast cruciatus curses, had traumatised him more than he would care to admit.

"Most of them... yes... But there were one or two others who were banished for other reasons... I remember young Hyperion... a lad charming like no other... I was sorry not to have known him longer..."

Draco was struggling for words. So this is what Potter feels like all the time, he thought wryly. "But, like you said, there were only one or two, over a span of what must have been about two thousand years!"

The mirror creaked again. Draco could almost imagine it leaning slowly forward from where it was mounted on the wall. "Young, naive boy," it rasped, almost tenderly, like a doting grandfather, "Some went along with the arranged marriages and quelled their true desires..."

Draco gritted his teeth. Why, oh why did his mirror have to have the personality of Dumbledore, that old coot, of all people. And the last thing he would ever be was young and naive. He wished the mirror would stop referring to him as a child. He was practically an adult, and had come so close to receiving the dark mark that he could not possibly be considered innocent.

"Child... This is a new beginning for the Malfoys, for everyone... Seize this opportunity to gain true happiness... Follow your heart..."

"I will, thanks!" Draco snapped, grabbing his bag. "However, what my heart tells me to do is listen to my brain, which is a damn sight more reliable than an effing piece of enchanted glass. And what my brain tells me to do is be practical, and not chase after stupid things that I can't afford to indulge myself in."

Sending a murderous glare the mirror's way, Draco stalked out of the room in a huff and made his lonely way down to the Great Hall.

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><p>Harry swore loudly. he had overslept. Rummaging frantically through his trunk, he snatched up the elusive red and gold tie and looped it round his neck triumphantly.<p>

Turning to face the mirror and flatten the unfortunate nest of twigs which sat atop his head, Harry decided that dreams were the bane of his existence.

According to Ron, who had abandoned him a minute earlier at the prospect of scarfing down strips of bacon, Harry had spent the night tossing and turning and moaning unintelligibly. Harry had flushed a deep red upon hearing this. Somewhere in the middle of a very peaceful meadow he came across on his sleepy wanderings, Draco had waltzed up to him and proclaimed his undying love. Dream Harry had then lost all control and proceeded to snog the blonde boy senseless, before the real Harry had woken to the sound of Seamus' dreadfully off-key singing in the shower, and a sticky wetness in his pants.

He shuddered and told himself firmly that it had been an accident; that all he wanted was Draco's friendship, and nothing else. After all, it wasn't as if he liked anyone at the moment at all, did he? And heck, even if he did, he was quite sure he wouldn't fall for someone quite as... pointy.

Laughing nervously, Harry bounded down the steps two at a time, determined to make it to breakfast before all the good muffins were gone.

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><p>Hello. Sorry I haven't posted for so long. :) I was busy with schoolwork. I'll try to post more often. :)<p>

And in this story, Draco didn't get the dark mark or try to kill Dumbledore in his sixth year. :) Yeah. just a clarification.

And PLEASE REVIEW! I want to know what you think! Like how I should continue with the plot, how I can make it more interesting, how I can refine my writing style etc. :) Thanks. (It'll only take you a minute!)


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